leanonstuff | PSL post for daughterless

PSL post for daughterless

[The NCR had sent Norman to the Vault because the area was surrounded by Fiends, and he was damn good at blending among the various "criminal" groups around the Mojave. No way an ordinary NCR trooper would be able to get inside without being attacked. And according to their intelligence, exactly what was inside was of such great importance that they couldn't possibly wait to go after it just in case Caesar's Legion got wind of it and acted first. Norman was searching for a box of special bottles that appeared to be beer or vodka bottles, but were actually filled with a chemical that, when introduced into a water supply, could spread a deadly bacteria that would wipe out anyone who drank the contaminated water for at least a month.

Unfortunately, finding the bottles was turning out to be far more difficult that Norman had anticipated. He'd gotten into the Vault in the first place by wearing old, torn and dirty clothes that could pass as those a typical raider or Fiend might wear. He'd even bought a few chems from them to help gain their trust (and to use them later, though he planned to tell the NCR that he'd disposed of them instead). The Vault seemed to be empty of Fiends, luckily, but he wasn't too optimistic that he wouldn't eventually run into ghouls or worse.

10mm pistol in hand, Norman opens the door to the Vault infirmary, hoping he might have some more luck locating the bottles in there.]

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Alright. I won't be long.

[To say he isn't worried would be a lie. Joel's wounds might be sewn up and/or bandaged, but that doesn't mean he's in the clear. There's always the threat or infections or worse, and he can only hope none of that's gonna happen.

Giving Joel one last look, Norman heads out of the room and shuts the door behind him. He then begins slowly and carefully making his way into one room and the next, ducking down behind cover as he listens for any unwanted company.

So far so good.

This was clearly an office building of some sort, so he checks the desks for anything useful. A few caps here and there, and some ammunition. The chances of there being an infirmary here aren't too good, so he's banking on other survivors having stored a stash here somewhere.

And lo and behold, inside and overturned desk are a variety of chems. Mostly jet and psycho, but also a few Med-X. Norman grabs the Med-X and shoves them in his pack, then heads back to the room where Joel is waiting. A little at a time, like he'd said. He hopes the guy doesn't get a temper with him for checking in on him too often.]

I found a few Med-X so far. I'm gonna keep looking.

[ooc: Yeah I live about 10 min away from New York City and most of my family was born there, and I've heard plenty of people from Boston too! And woo yes I agree that he is the best. You'll have to tell me how it turns out in the end!]

[Joel could have sworn that he'd just closed his eyes for a sec-- maybe a half a minute, at most, and then Norman's back again and he jerks up slightly on the couch, trying to look awake.]

Huh? Yeah... [He coughs, trying to discreetly shake his head and clear out some of the cobwebs.]

You see anything? Any critters... roaches?

[ooc: whoa, that's cool. I live in LA and it's lots of Californian accents all day erryday around here. ANYHOO as if this exact moment, we've just got norman killed in the car grinder (and then immediately reloaded and saved him heh), and then Paco got killed. Not sure how much longer the game is (I'm scared to look it up 'cause of spoilers), but hopefully finishing in the next few days. >:D]

[He doesn't like that Joel wasn't conscious when he arrived back in the room. That meant someone could sneak up on him pretty easily... maybe leaving him alone isn't such a good idea.]

No. This place seems pretty clean. There might've been other people here not too long ago, but they must've moved on.

[Norman puts his pack down, then sits himself on the couch next to Joel. He rests his rifle across his thighs, glancing between the injured man and the door. He's trying hard not to be too obvious about his concern, and as a result, being extremely obvious about it.]

Do you want another Med-X now?

[ooc: Oh yes, my brother lives in LA too! And oh noo not the car grinder! Good luck on the rest!]

[He'd been hoping that Norman would leave again. Joel just wants to close his eyes a little longer. When the other man sits down next to him, he tries to find it in himself to look annoyed, but the best he can manage is a halfhearted scowl in his general direction. There's no point in Norman waiting around on him; he doesn't need a nanny.]

... No. Med-X'll knock me right out. [And he doesn't relish the thought of being unconscious in this unsecured place. Shaking his head, Joel tries to sit up a little straighter, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. ] I'm fine. Just tired.

[Everything seems far away, including Norman. Even the pain is a dull and blurry ache in the back of his mind. He scrubs at his face, trying to hide the wince as the movement pulls at his ribs.] Goddamnit.. Could really use a cup of coffee right about now.

[It's his one major vice-- the shitty pre-war stuff that comes ground up in little packets. They're a pain the ass to find, and the brew tasted sort of like coffee-flavored dirt, but damn if he doesn't enjoy the hell out of it anyway.]

[ooc: Finally wrapped it up last night, good endings all around!]

[He might need a nanny. A little bit. The Wasteland is extremely unpredictable, and just because no one else is in this building right now, doesn't mean that won't change at any moment. They can't even lock the doors.

But both of them'll have to sleep eventually. Better not be at the same time if they want to keep safe.]

Yeah... coffee would be good.

[There was usually coffee at McCarran. Too bad he can't go back there now. Christ, he misses it already. He wasn't meant to be a drifter, he isn't cut out for that kind of life.]

Maybe you'd better sleep a little now so I can keep an eye out for trouble. Then I can get some sleep after you.

[ooc: Awesome! My first time I didn't do any reloads so I ended up getting everyone dead except Shaun and Shelby :|]

[Maybe just a little. Joel's starting to nod off again, and even sheer stubbornness can't win out against the fact that he's completely beat, still staggering a bit from blood loss and pain and the earlier effects of the drugs. Finally, he makes a disgruntled sound, giving in to the inevitable.]

...Alright. Pass me one of those Med-X 'n wake me up in a couple of hours.

[He jabs the syringe into his thigh with a wince, leaning back into the dusty couch cushions as the first strains of sweet and blessed painlessness begin to course through his body. Right. At least this isn't a wholly inequitable exchange-- he'll a nap now, and take Norman's place a little later. It'll work out just--

Joel doesn't even finish the thought before he's fast asleep.]

[ooc: Fffffffu what even happens when everyone else dies?]

[Norman smiles a little to himself when Joel falls asleep almost immediately after taking the Med-X. After watching him for a few seconds to make sure his breathing is okay, he stands up and starts looking around the room for something to occupy himself while he waits.

Inside one of the drawers is a magazine about computers. Well... it's not exactly light reading, but Norman could do to learn more about computers. Maybe it'd help him learn how to hack some of those terminals so he doesn't have to always rely on lock picking.

Halfway through the magazine, he starts to realize he's nodding off too. Shit. He stands up and starts pacing around, then sits again. Another look at the magazine, before his eyes start straying to the Med-X he'd picked up. Okay... maybe just one more won't hurt.

Picking up the syringe, he jabs it into his arm, smiling again when the blanket-like feeling falls upon his thoughts. He then alternates between looking at the magazine and glancing at Joel. This goes on for awhile, until he doesn't think he can stay awake any longer, and gives the other man a tap on the shoulder.]

[ooc: Well Shelby walked free and it sucked :|]

Edited 2014-01-23 00:10 (UTC)

[Joel, ordinarily a light sleeper, doesn't so much as twitch at the tap on his shoulder. In fact, it'll take a few more minutes and maybe some shaking before he stirs and blinks blearily up at Norman.]

--Whuh? [His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, and every part of his body throbs in protest. Slowly, he levels himself upright on the couch before rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.]

...How long? [Has he been out, he means, but words are a little bit beyond him at the moment. Feels like he'd hardly closed his eyes.]

[:C man, I'm already tempted to replay for alternate endings.]

[He feels bad about having to wake Joel up. The fact that it takes more than a few taps makes him feel even worse. The guy needs sleep more than Norman does, and yet he simply can't keep himself awake. Unless Joel agrees that shoving a desk in front of the door is security enough, it's probably unwise to both sleep at the same time.]

A few hours.

[He pauses, before making that very suggestion.]

I could move a desk in front of the door so we can both sleep. Do you think that'd be okay?

[Then if someone tries to break in, they'll wake up at the sound of the desk trying to move.]

[ooc: they're all on youtube too if you want to watch rather than play.]

[If his thoughts weren't muzzy from sleep and he were thinking straight, Joel probably would have said no without hesitation. As it is, he stares at Norman for a long moment, parsing his words. Desk by the door, sort of a makeshift alarm system.... fine. As long as he can get some more rest.]

Yeah. [...] Just-- [His usual smuggler's paranoia is belatedly kicking in, setting off dim warning bells in his head. Joel sits up with a low grunt of effort, reaching for his pack. So much for going right back to sleep.]

I'm thinkin' you get that desk over to the door, and I'll rig up somethin' to go on top.

[A nailbomb, a detonator, and some twine is all he needs to set up a passable tripwire. It'll also make for a nice welcome to any intruders who might try to break in.]

[ooc: yeah, I looked a couple up but i kind of want to try playing a completely different path and seeing how things go, maybe how many times/how bad we can fuck up haha.]

Okay. Sounds good to me.

[Except the desk turns out to be pretty damn heavy, and his injured arm isn't having any of it when he tries to push it with both hands. So instead he turns around and tries pushing it back by crouching slightly and shoving it from behind. It's awkward, but manages to do the job after making a good deal of noise screeching across the floor. But hey, if that didn't alert anything, they probably are alone here.]

You think you can move over here, or do you want to tell me how to do it?

[Handling explosives might also not be the best idea if he's unsteady and half asleep. ...Then again, Norman is also half asleep, so him doing it might not be much better. Maybe he'd better just let Joel do what he knows how to do.]

[ooc: lol yes there are so many different options it is fun to see what you can come up with!]

[As Norman shoves the table over, Joel's looping the twine around the body of the nailbomb, careful not to jostle the contents around too much. It takes all his focus just to keep his hands hands steady (steadier, at least, than when he'd been bleeding out all over the floor), and he only glances up at Norman when he's done.]

I got this. [Joel can't disagree with Norman there, but he's set enough of these things before to do it in his sleep (and the prospect of the other man juggling unfamiliar explosives isn't exactly appealing either.) Hobbling over to the desk, he keeps his weight off the injured leg and balances himself on the furnishings. The twine stretches across the edge of the doorway, tied down on one side, nailbomb and detonator on the other-- a guaranteed unpleasant surprise for anyone trying to shove their way into the room.

Done with his part, Joel sits back for a moment, letting the tension trickle out of his shoulders as weariness presses back down on him. Damn, but he's tired out even by that brief stint of movement.]

Alright, that should do. [Glancing back at Norman, he doesn't look to be in much better shape-- and at least Joel had gotten some rest.] How're you holdin' up?

[Another thought that occurs to him is that there's only the one couch, and not a whole lot of room. Well, whatever. They'd make do.]

[He watches as Joel prepares the trap, trying to keep careful track of what he's doing in case he wants to replicate the process in the future. Unfortunately, he's so exhausted that his focus is off and he misses a few steps. Well, he can always ask Joel later.

Once that's done, Norman goes to join him on the couch. While Joel is taking a moment to rest, Norman starts to doze off. The question jolts him back to an alert state.]

Fine. [The reply is quick and reflexive. Between the injury and the amount of chems in his system, the need for sleep is by far the most pressing item on his agenda.]

Tired. [The fact that there is only a single couch does make it through the haze in his mind. While he has absolutely no issue with sharing the space with Joel, he doesn't know if the other man feels similarly.]

Want me to sleep on the floor?

[Joel's slept in worse and more cramped conditions, next to people he wasn't sure if he was gonna have to shoot or do business with the next morning, so their current situation hardly makes a blip on the meter of "shit Joel is not okay with." (And if anything, it's Joel's turn to sleep on the floor.) At Norman's question, he cracks one eye open just long enough to reply.]

That ain't necessary. [He shifts a bit more to the side, more sitting than lying down, and leaving at least half the couch open for Norman. On the job, Joel is generally a light sleeper, and not one to shift around too much (knowing anyone else on the job tended to also be light sleepers with twitchy trigger fingers), but he's too drugged out and exhausted to give a shit right now, so whenever they get around to waking up, Norman might find Joel encroaching and sprawled over more than just his half of the couch.

Alright.

[He's glad for that; the floor is really filthy and hard, not the kind of place you'd want to sleep unless you had no other choice. Norman also shifts around some, trying to get as comfortable as he can before drifting off again.

As someone used to doing spy work, he's also generally a light sleeper. Infiltrating gangs always leaves open the possibility of one's cover being blown, which would mean a quick getaway was necessary. Same goes for infiltrating vaults, where sometimes raiders or creatures are lurking to try and get in an easy kill.

Right now, however, he doubts he'd be much use in a fight even if one came right to them. He sleeps for a long while, but when he does wake up it's to find Joel half-lying on him. Blinking down at him, Norman also notices that his uninjured arm is draped over Joel in return. Huh.

Not wanting to disturb his sleep, he allows Joel to rest there while he grabs for that computer magazine. Might as well read a little while he's waiting.]

[He wakes up somewhat warmer than he expected. There's someone next to him, and for a long moment, Joel holds very still, eyes closed, trying to work out where he is and what's going on. Shootout in the desert, check. Holing up in some nearby building and patching themselves up after, check. And now he's lying against Norman, feeling the rise and fall of the other man's chest against his back--

Joel sits bolt upright, not quite jerking away, somewhat surprised to feel Norman's arm sliding off his shoulder.]

...Sorry 'bout that. [He looks away, awkward as he reaches for his pack. Most of the throbbing in his injured leg has died down. When he gingerly tests his weight, there's a flare of pain enough to make him wince, but it'll hold. Just as long as they've got enough Med X to tide him over.]

Ready to go?

[Feeling Joel suddenly sit upright nearly causes Norman to drop the magazine in his hand. He watches him for a few seconds, waiting to see if he reacts poorly. An apology isn't really what he was expecting. Much more welcome than shouting, of course.]

It's okay.

[Norman puts the magazine down, then reaches for his bag. Is one night enough to make Joel ready to continue on? That's probably a big no. He doubts they'd get far, and the odds would be more than against them in fight with able bodied troops or gang members.]

Hey-

[He reaches out as if to stop Joel from rising fully to his feet.]

I don't think that's a good idea. You need more rest.

[Yeah, Norman's a worrier alright. Joel pushes up and past his intervening hand.]

Give it a couple of days, and we'll have Legion battalions and NCR troopers knocking on our doorstep. We left a trail a mile wide out there. [Hero or not, stupid fucking suicide mission or not, Joel's put his mind toward the job and part of that means remaining undetected long enough to do the damn thing.]

I got no plans on stickin' around long enough to see who gets here first. My leg-- [He almost says, "is fine", but that would be so blatant a lie that Norman probably wouldn't even dignify it with a response. He amends his initial statement.] It'll hold. 's long as we got enough meds to tide us over.

[And they sure do have that, right, Norman? Right?]

Hopefully both at the same time. Then they'll be too busy killing each other to notice us.

[But in all seriousness... he understands and shares Joel's concerns. The question is whether their chances would be better sticking around here for at least one more day, or making very little progress while Joel limps along. Being exposed on top of that doesn't sound too good to him.

Norman tries to hide a slightly nervous look at the mention of the meds. He's already craving another Med-X after sleeping. Even if Joel didn't noticed the discrepancy in their supply before, he's sure to eventually.]

I wanted to take today to look around this place for more of them. Never know when's the next time we'll find some.

[Joel glances up from his leg just in time to catch the queer expression on Norman's face. His eyes narrow slightly, not sure what to make of it-- but the moment's passed. The other man isn't wrong either, as much as Joel hates to admit it, he's not in any great shape to travel. But they can't really afford to wait either. His mouth twists reluctantly.]

...Can't hurt to have a look 'round before we clear out.

[But he also doesn't want to do the post-apocalyptic equivalent of couch surfing, and he'll die of boredom waiting for Norman to get back from scrounging around the building. Pushing away from the couch, Joel shrugs his pack over his shoulders.]

I can cover the ground floor, if you take the stairs.

Yeah.

[Noting that suspicious look, Norman clasps his hands together to stop them from fidgeting too much. He'll need to sneak in a Med-X once he's out of Joel's sight. Then he can make up for it with whatever he finds, or come up with some sort of story about where the others went-

...Wait.

Norman glances sideways at Joel, unsure if he's hearing that right.]

That's stupid, Joel. [He unclasps his hands long enough to stand, then busies them with preparing his own pack instead.]

You'll start bleeding again, and then sticking around an extra day won't help us at all.

Yeah, well it ain't up for discussion.

[Joel knows it isn't exactly... the best of ideas (stupid sounds about right, actually), but goddamnit, he doesn't want to be useless, and he isn't some kind of invalid who can't pull his own weight.]

I'll take it easy. You said it yourself-- the place looks clean.

Edited (whoops icon) 2014-01-28 08:11 (UTC)

[Norman sighs, shaking his head. He definitely gets the feeling that arguing isn't gonna get him anywhere.]

Fine. But if you start feeling like crap, try to get back to this room before passing out.

[He reaches into his pack and pulls out a Med-X and a few stims, which he passes off to Joel. The rest stay with him. The last thing he needs is Joel taking inventory and making it even easier for him to know when something goes missing.]

[Hey, shouldn't the (more) injured guy get to hold on to the meds? Well, Joel doesn't argue-- less chance for Norman to hassle about Joel exploring the building for himself-- just starts heading for the door and ignoring Norman's comment about 'passing out.'

He's careful when disabling the bomb trap, not allowing himself to relax until the whole thing is dismantled string to detonator and the pieces tucked back into his pack before pushing the door open with a low creak.]

Right. Coast looks clear. Give me a holler if you see anything-- or anyone comin' our way.

[Just gonna start poking around the desks of the main... hall. Entrance area. This looks like a pretty standard office sort of building, lots of official looking desks, but Joel starts rummaging around the drawers anyway. People keep all sorts of weird (and useful) shit in there.]

[Yeah, maybe he should. But he's not, and Norman isn't going to offer an explanation for that either.]

Alright. You too.

[He tries to keep his injured arm mostly stationary as he heads for the nearest stairwell. Since this is uncharted territory, Norman draws pulls out his pistol and treads quietly around the dimly lit halls. The eerie quiet of these buildings always gets his pulse quickening, and he has to do his best to suppress the instinctual urge to jump at certain shadows.

Norman gladly slips into the first unlocked room he comes across and starts searching for supplies. There are some bandages, which he readily shoves into his pack. A few knickknacks here and there... well, he'll keep looking. There's bound to be at least a few chems around here.]

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